


Fading Into Beautiful Light

by missme



Category: Les Miserables, Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: AU, Post Barricade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missme/pseuds/missme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 years after the June Rebellion, Marius opens up to memories of his friends and the barricade that he had tried to suppress for years, and an unexpected visitor arrives. (PS I suck at summaries please forgive me)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fading Into Beautiful Light

It was days like these that he longed for his friends even more than others. When it felt like the only thing that could calm his mind was Jehan reading him some new piece of poetry or Courfeyrac rambling on about how pretty the girl he saw in the market was or even Grantaire noticing how dejected he felt when it seemed no one else could and offering him some wine and a chair at his table in the corner.  


Already ten years had passed since the barricades and not a day has gone by that Marius has not thought of them. Ten years to the day. The thought seemed almost impossible to him, so much had happened. After making peace with his Grandfather and marrying Cosette, life was no longer a struggle for him. He wanted for nothing and was surrounded by people who loved him although at times it was hard for him to show his affection in return, they were understanding – Cosette most of all. She knew when he wanted to talk about his life before her and when it was best to just focus on their life together now. On the days when guilt and sobs racked his body to the point where he couldn't get out of bed she would sit by his side and kiss his head, dulling the pain as much as she could. She had never met any of his friends but over the years of feeling Marius' pain and listening to his stories and the stories of others she learned of each of them, feeling in some way connected to them by a different, ethereal bond.  


Every year on the anniversary of the June Rebellion, as it had come to be called, he and Cosette would take their son early in the morning and walk down the street where the barricade had been. Every year he bought 11 different flowers (as he knew Jehan would have liked) from a poor beggar by their house (as would have pleased Enjolras) and lay them on the street in a row, marking the place where his friends' lives were taken from them – much too early and much too brutally. Every year they would go back to their house and Marius would return to his room, so that his family would not hear him cry, although they always knew he was.  


But not this year. This year Marius woke late and lay in bed feeling the numbness creeping up his body as it had so many times before when he thought about this day. Ten years. Ten years without his friends, with the guilt of being the only one living and the guilt that he was thankful for it. He had told Cosette the day before that he had different plans for this day this time. She quietly accepted, though they both knew that this year, of all the others, Marius needed to commemorate his friends.  


He slowly got up from his bed and opened the window, the weather seemingly the exact same as the day of the battle. Marius felt a chill rush up his spine, not from cold but from a memory. As he slowly made his way over to the armoire in the corner of his room, a battle was going on in his head. Should he do this, or will it only make his memories worse? Eventually the need for tangible pieces of his friends outweighed the doubt and from behind racks of clothes Marius pulled a dusty old wooden box that had once belonged to his father.  


Not once in the ten years since he had received these things had they been taken out of the box, for fear of disturbing the delicate cocoon of the memories of his friends. One by one Marius pulled items out of the box, holding them delicately, like they would turn to dust and disappear before his very eyes.  


There were a select few of Enjolras and Combferres' books, Grantaire's favourite flask and set of charcoal pencils, Jehan's journal telling of that final day and a poem with the last line illegible – the blood covering it was too thick to see though. A scrap of fabric that he and Courfeyrac had used as a curtain in their apartment, a half finished fan from Feuilly, one of Bahorel's waistcoats, Joly's cane, Bossuet's favourite hat and wrapped up specially at the bottom were Gavroche's pin and Eponine's doll, the only thing she had kept from her youth.  


Tears sprung to Marius' eyes as he saw these things spread out on the floor around him. Being the only surviving member of the group, many of the family members and employers of his friends came to talk to him afterwords and allowed him to take some of their belongings. For the ones who had no relations, it was his duty to take the things that had to be sold and keep whatever he felt necessary. Everything was sold except for the contents of this box. He planned to spend the entire day here, sitting among the relics of his friends, finally, after all this time allowing memories that he had suppressed to come through. But then a knock on the door and a light cough made him jolt back to from the land of the dead.  


“Marius, there is a woman here to speak with you. She didn't say her name but said that you would want to see her.” Cosette tried not to look at the items around Marius, having never seen them before and knowing that they must be private. He stood up and brushed himself off, coming to kiss Cosette lightly. Cosette - loving, worried, understanding Cosette.  


“Tell her that I shall be out soon my love, I'm not yet dressed.” Cosette pecked his cheek and turned down the hall, allowing Marius to compose himself and get dressed.  


A few minutes later Marius found himself presentable and walking to the hall although the dried line of tears could still lightly be seen on his face. There, sitting in the salon was a woman not much younger than he, who was vaguely familiar. She was dressed well, with light skin, small hands and feet and eyes that although appeared to have once been bright and smiling were now faded. “Bonjour Mademoiselle. I'm sorry I had to make you wait. I was not feeling quite well this morning.” Marius took the seat across from her, trying desperately to figure out where he had seen this woman before.  


After a moment of silence she finally opened her mouth and spoke in a voice that sounded of a sad song. “No, I'd imagine you wouldn't today. I'm sorry to intrude I just needed to talk to you Monsieur. You see, I'm Musichetta. I...I knew Monsieur Joly and Monsieur Lesgle.”

**Author's Note:**

> In memory of those who died defending freedom and equality and sparked the fight for democracy in France. Through Hugo's book may they and their values live forever.
> 
> Thank you to anyone and everyone who reads this I kinda just whipped it out but I think i'm going to continue, maybe, probably?
> 
> And thank you to Keane for the title, and Mr. Hugo for creating these characters cause damn I don't know what i'd do without them


End file.
